Heaven can see what you’ve refused

to say, to do, through cowardice.

“Let the dead tend to themselves”, they say,

but what say you of innocent babes

who’re slaughtered daily as we speak?

Naught: to Zion you’re beholden.

You live, but silent as the grave

remain: complicit in their pain.

You strut and pose upon a stage

That’s built of blood and sweat and tears,

by our n...

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